


Underneath Us

by Aillig



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Genderfluid Character, M/M, Original Character(s), Sexual Tension, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:15:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24685198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aillig/pseuds/Aillig
Summary: Dakel'Rishon is one miserable Quarian. He thought he could get away from all of his worries and find decent work and money; a one way ticket to some station called Omega seemed like a fresh enough start after all. Instead all he found were lousy jobs and even lousier pay in the galaxy's most dangerous crime hub.What little money he has isn't enough to get him off the station, his job is mind numbing and worst of all he shares a cramped apartment with another Quarian who he can't stand. It's been a little over a year now in the "Heart of Evil" and Dakel has resigned himself to the fact that he might just die here; the best thing he can do is keep his head down and pray.One day however, everything changes. When he meets an enigmatic Turian by the name of Grisen.
Relationships: Quarian/Turian
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	1. Omega Gloom

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing this sort of thing. I'm an amateur writer at best, any constructive feedback would be greatly appreciated! Its gonna be a slow burner but trust me, the good stuff will come. Pun intended.

"It's not gay if we acclimatise with one another right?" Kenn bleated from the bathroom compartment. A loud flush and worrying rattle of pipes punctuating his brash question.

Dakel sighed, raising himself lethargically from his bed. Coughing and wiping the thin layer of dust that had settled on his visor as he had slept. "...what?"

"Say we're in a life-threatening situation, my suit has a puncture and you have to fix it and re-pressurise it with your suit environment. Would that be... you know?" The white and green Quarian wondered out loud as he emerged out of the tiny compartment. Tapping away at his omni-tool as he did so.  
  
Dakel stared at Kenn; furrowing his brow incredulously underneath the cloudy anonymity of his visor. "Kenn. Does anyone ever tell you that you're a very weird person?" Dakel snipped, standing up and then folding his bed into the wall of the apartment. It did very little to expand the living space in the two-room apartment if you could even call this "living".

"Most people tell me I'm quite nice actually." The other quarian deflected; continuing to tap away at his omni-tool.

"Do they also tell you that you should fix your filtration system?" Dakel quipped, to which Kenn responded with an embarrassed groan, quickly shutting off his omni-tool and grabbing his tools.

"You KNOW I can't afford to get it fixed Dakel. Harrot's selling prices remember?" 

Pressing a touch screen on the wall, Dakel let a news broadcast fill the room with voices other than their own. Dakel found Kenn's voice grating after only a few minutes of listening. Kenn knew he bothered his fellow Quarian so would often test his patience with asinine questions out of boredom and spite. Opening the main door of the apartment, more noises made their way into their home, the orange glow of Omega lighting up the floating dust particles that hung in the air. 

Dakel sighed again, frustrated. "Well maybe deciding to sell salvage in the same market as a big and mean Elcor wasn't the smartest idea?"

"It's not my fault that _bosh'tet_ keeps undercutting me! Look, I need to go open up shop, are you coming with me or not?" Kenn, already halfway out the door, urged his fellow Quarian. Dakel muttered under his breath as he left with his roommate. It was always smarter to travel together to work, people are less likely to jump you if there's two of you. Slightly less anyway.

**

Desperation kept them together. Dakel knew this well and felt somewhat guilty about how he acted toward his fellow quarian. Two young men stupid enough to get themselves stuck on Omega; the heart of evil. Sticking together and watching out for one another was a necessity, their time on the station taught them that, Kenn being robbed for everything he had on him minus his suit within the first week and Dakel...

He didn't want to think about it.

The two of them hurriedly left their district, taking the express elevator to the Omega Marketplace. Dakel nervously drumming the side of a pistol hanging from his belt. Thankfully nobody else entered and the two of them were alone as the elevator shuddered upwards towards their destination.

"No Vorcha. _Keelah_... that's good." Kenn stated. Dakel kept drumming the pistol and stared at the elevator door as the control panel flickered. He knew he couldn't afford to get complacent, there could be anything waiting for them at the top, his mind racing with terrible situations. A band of Vorcha with flamethrowers waiting to toast them alive for the hell of it, Blood Pack looking to shake them down for credits or a hooded figure with-

A dull thud and distorted ding brought them to a halt. Kenn jumped slightly and Dakel unfurled his pistol forwards, the elevator doors sliding open to reveal a cross looking turian with their hands resting on their hips.

"Jumpy today boys?" she chuckled. Kenn gave a nervous laugh in return and rubbed the back of his helmet whilst Dakel withdrew his gun. He wasn't expecting a friendly face, let alone his boss.

"...Hey, Polana" he muttered, leaving the elevator and stepping out into the Market district. The abrasive orange hue of the ambient Omega light washing over him and Kenn. "What are you doing here?" he continued.

"Figured the two of you could use a plus 1. The whole station is on edge. C'mon, we'll talk more on the way." Polana drawled in her usual gruff but calm tone.

Dakel was immensely glad she was here, Polana was nearly 7 feet of chiselled ex-mercenary, an assault rifle always slung around her shoulder. With yellow eyes and an ashy red complexion with countless scars on her grizzled scaled face, she gave off a deterring aura even amongst the galaxy's lowest in Omega. If there was a good thing that happened to Dakel on this hellhole of a station, it was her and her shop. A place that specialised in weapon mods, she had taken on Dakel a couple of months ago, having him work in a backroom putting the weapon mods together for clients. Mind-numbing work considering Omega's unscrupulous inhabitants, the same old guns with the same old modifications but he didn't want to complain, he had some truly terrible jobs and bosses before he met her. He liked her.

The thumping of the music emanating from the nearby club rattled his chest as they escorted Kenn to his shop, Dakel weakly waving back to him as they left for their part of the market.

"Lemme guess. He's been getting on your nerves again?" Polana mused, Dakel gave a sharp sigh and slumped his shoulders.

"Nah just... nightmares again. It's not his fault, I've just been real shitty these past few weeks."

"HAH! I've noticed." She stated at him as she rolled up the shutters to the shop in one fell swoop and then lit the place up with a button or two on her omni-tool. "You look out the backroom porthole when you're in your moods; which has been a lot of the time recently."

Taken aback he stuttered "I-I'm not slacking off though. I swear!" 

She turned to him and smiled softly. Her mandibles fluttering as she gave a warm chuckle. "I know kid. I'm only teasing." Dakel avoided eye contact as much as he could as he helped set up shop, he could tell Polana was glancing at him the entire time as he did so, trying to say what was on her mind. "Nightmares about that night right?" she eventually said.

He froze. A cold wave of anxiety washing through him as he relented to his thoughts and recalled what happened.

* * *

The Krogan slammed him into the wall with a violent thud, Dakel dropping his boot knife due to the shock, the Krogan's accompanying Vorcha companion gurgling blood as it lay there dying from the throat stab.

"Tenacious little roach aren't you!" The Krogan bellowed as he brought both his hands to the struggling quarian, slamming him again against the wall this time even harder. Dakel yelled out in pain, despite the suit absorbing most of the trauma, the krogan's blows were getting through and then some. He could hardly breathe as the Krogan strangled him harder, hoisting him into the air and pressing as hard as he could on his throat. Between the flashes of pain and loss of hearing, he prayed the suit would hold above all. He could take the beating; not an infection, anything but that. "Should have used the knife on me roach, I got an itch that needs scratchin'." His voice was gravelly and oozing with foulness, what had started as a robbery was quickly turning into a murder. With a swift and vicious motion, he threw Dakel to the ground, his body slamming into the neon red streets of the Gozu District. "Suppose I'll just make do with tearing you apart."

Gasping for air and coughing profusely, his suit's biometrics were screaming at him, none of which he cared about at that moment. He needed a weapon; fast. Reaching under his hood he drew it, a small pocket knife that he used for cutting wires and stubborn boxes. He rose to his feet quickly albeit wobbly and held a defensive stance with the knife to his hip, pointed towards the Krogan who simply just stood there laughing.

"You ain't gonna cut through cardboard; let alone MY skin bug." The Krogan growled.

"I'll... go for... your fucking eyes then you _BOSH'TET_!" Dakel yelled hard, his rib cage aching and sending pulsing waves of pain throughout his limbs. He stood his ground. Keeping a free arm in front of him following what he was taught back on the flotilla. However, that was for targets the size of Quarians; not a pissed off Krogan. Who responded to Dakel's defiance with a roar and charged towards him. The suit warnings, distant night club music and even his shallow breaths muted as he tensed his body and waited for it all to be over. He closed his eyes and brought the knife forward.

What followed was an ear-splitting bang and then 600 pounds of krogan slamming into him and pinning him to the ground. His vision obscured by the blood splattered across his visor, orange blood. He could barely see; barely breathe. Through what little he could see he saw what remained of his attacker's head, gaping and spurting out more orange essence into the dirty streets of Omega, a loose krogan eyeball falling from a chasm where the left side of its face used to be. Panicking he pushed with all his might against the dead weight on top of him with no use, his terror growing, he started to cry out.

Just then, the mass began to lift and with one final frenzied motion, he pushed the Krogan's corpse off of him. Quickly wiping the blood of his visor away with his palm and then crawling away towards a wall to prop himself up against. Panting profusely, he finally saw what had helped him raise the corpse. Before him stood a dark clothed, hooded figure, black mask hiding their features. They were turian; that was certain. They racked the slide on their pistol as it ejected a spent thermal clip and inserted a new one with swift elegance, taking a couple of steps towards the frightened quarian. Underneath his visor, Dakel stared in terror at the figure, trying to control his breathing by breathing through his nose. They raised the pistol at him and he recoiled, shielding his face with his shaking arms and gasping in fear. I'm going to die, he thought. I'm going to die on this hellhole and never make thing right back home.

The shot never came. Instead, he lowered his arms hesitantly and saw the figure, still holding the pistol at him but now backwards, offering it to him.

Dakel blinked and sat there in silence for a beat before sheepishly accepting the pistol. Bringing it towards him and almost cradling it with his hands. The figure still had their hand outreached towards him; which further confused him. Were they helping him? He collapsed the pistol and hung it from his belt and hesitantly took the figure's hand, bringing himself upwards with a painful grunt. Very quickly he realised something, the turian was short, very short, shorter than he was. They were also very, lithe, their black one-piece utility suit hugging their slender frame with wide hips and a narrow waist. They drew in closer, their black mask inches from his grey visor, Dakel felt his pounding heart suddenly stop. He held his breath and felt, something, within him, he couldn't quite understand. For just a moment the fear was gone, replaced with something burning in his heart and... lower regions.

The figure then proceeded to remove a small chunk of flesh that had embedded itself on top of quarian's hood. Dakel's heart resumed and the figure began to walk away, flicking the viscera away with an elegant flick of their fingers. A smooth and sultry voice calling back to him.

"Hold onto it for me. You look like you need it. I'm gonna want it back though... eventually."

* * *

He stared out of the porthole, the dim light from his workbench creating a spectral image of himself on the window, he tried to stare past it. He had told Polana what had happened that night a month ago and since then she made a habit of escorting him places. Food runs and the miscellaneous job, now she was meeting him and Kenn at the elevator. He appreciated it but at the same time loathed himself for causing her hassle and acting the way he did towards Kenn. He had a reoccurring nightmare of him being pinned under the krogan, the figure looming over him, instead of helping, however; they shoot him too. His faceplate would crack and horrendous bang would pierce his ears and blackness would envelop him before he had a chance to scream. He would wake up in a cold sweat those nights. There were also other nights where he had... other dreams about that night. Of the figure being a mere couple of inches away from him and pressing him up against the wall, their tight body pushing into him and having its way with him. Those dreams, in particular, irked him even more than the nightmares, quarian suits were notoriously unfriendly with erections and it was beyond embarrassing hiding in a tiny compartment to try and rub one out to get peace and privacy from your nosy roommate. 

"Hey, kid! I'm gonna need you to hold the fort while I got fetch something!" Polana yelled from outside. Dakel ripping himself from his reflection and leaving the backroom, noticing Polana holding two large duffel bags in each hand. "Some mods came in so I'm gonna go to one of the clubs and suit up their guards. Easy money. Won't take long, honest." She stated rather proudly. Dakel gulped a little and gave a nervous laugh.

"Sure thing, I'll woo prospective customers with my amazing people skills." He announced wryly.

Polana smiled wide, turned and walked out of the store, calling back to the quarian. "A joke! Now that's how you deal with life on this station kid!" With that, she disappeared around the corner and he was alone.

"...it wasn't THAT good of a joke." He muttered out loud, sighing as he leaned across the kiosk; hoping no one would come for the next good while. He nervously tapped on the pistol around his belt, it was a black M-6 Carnifex that the mystery turian had given him that fateful night. Highly accurate and lethal. Also astoundingly expensive. There were times he mused finding a buyer for it, it could easily pick up a good amount of credits if he sold it to the right person, it could get him enough money to maybe even bribe someone to let him stow away on a ship and get away from Omega. He never did though, second-hand guns sold like crap, even expensive ones such as this and he did not want to be defenceless again. Part of him also was waiting. Waiting for them to come back and take it like they said they would. He would hate himself even more if he sold the gun and let down the person who saved his life. Then again, it HAD been a month and he hadn't seen or heard from them since what harm could there be in asking Polana for advice in selling it? He sighed and mumbled. "I hate this place. I hate this place so much."

"You and me both."

A wave of coldness swept throughout him as his anxiety took hold once again, turning his head towards the familiar smooth voice. They stood there; this time maskless. A male turian, their soft voice and short, slender figure having muddled Dakel's idea of who they were gender-wise. Their face was just, elegant, their features such as their nose ridge and mouth being small but their eyes large and emerald green; contrasting against their dark grey skin and plates. White facial markings forming an elegant pattern around their forehead, cheek plates and chin. Dakel found himself lost gazing at the turian. Snapping out of his stupor, he tried to speak up, his tongue suddenly dry and uncooperative. Barely managing a weak "Oh yeah... yeah. Yeah? Yeah!"

The turian giggled, their mandibles twitching slightly as they raised a hand to stifle themself. "Didn't mean to spook you. Again I mean."

"What? Oh no, it's fine I'm good. I'm alright... I'm uh. I'm Dakel. Dakel'Rishon nar Shellen." He offered his hand leaning over the kiosk, his fear overcome and replaced with an excited, admiration. "You are?" he bumbled out.

They approached and took his hand, his spine tingled a little as they shook.

"Grisen. You can call me Grisen."


	2. Afterlife Dread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mysterious and ominous figure has revealed themself to Dakel, a turian calling themself Grisen, their occupation definitely unscrupulous. Despite this, the quarian finds themselves attracted to them, terrified but entranced. They invite him to "hang-out" at the infamous club Afterlife. Dakel, his mind swimming with conflicting emotions towards Grisen decides to take them up on their offer. He'll soon find out, however, that he might have taken on more than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one (eyyyy) and for that, I apologise. As always anything constructive is greatly appreciated. I'm still trying to get the hang of this. However, please enjoy!

"So, Dakel. Is your boss around?" Grisen asked, their green eyes twinkling at him slightly, the colour unmarred by the oppressive orange hues of Omega.

Dakel stared blankly at them for a moment, his mind still racing from feeling their hand in his mere moments ago. He quickly shook his head and cleared his throat. "Oh! Uh... Polana? She's out right now; delivering some stuff. Said she won't be away long."

A small wry smile adorned Grisen's face. "Knowing Polana, that means she IS gonna be a while."

The Quarian chuckled nervously; adjusting his suit's hood. "You erm... know her well then?"

"Well enough..." Grisen trailed off as they reached behind their back. Dakel eyes widened under his cloudy visor as he felt an all too familiar cold wave sweep through his body, his nightmares screaming in the back of his mind. "I was hoping she could help me out with this." The lithe turian brought around a collapsed black rifle, placing it on top of the kiosk in front of Dakel. The quarian stifling a sigh; trying to calm himself. They weren't going to hurt him... right?

"Oh...uh... I could take a look if you don't want to wait?" He blurted out.

Grisen's smile widened, their teeth visible under their thin mandibles. "I'm in no hurry. But, go ahead." With a wave of their hand, Grisen activated their rifle, which unfolded and expanded to its full combat length and operation.

Dakel recognised it immediately, an M-92 Mantis, a powerful sniper rifle. It was one of the more common weapons that passed through the shop, thermal clips jamming in the ejection port was a problem Dakel fixed time and time again, secondhand models were notorious for this and Omega had them in surplus. However, he noticed something was off about this particular rifle and it wasn't the jet black paint job. There were no thermal clip ports at all; insertion or ejection. He scanned his omni-tool over it, hoping to get some information and a better read of the rifle's internals, an error message popped up instead. He then realised something. "H-hey! This must be a Pre-Rework model? Am I right?" He looked up and noticed Grisen was no longer in front of him.

"Yup. An old HKSW model; had it for a while now." Grisen's voice slinked its way into Dakel's left ear. It was soft and smooth; the distinctive turian flanging effect making their voice feel like a pleasant hum to him. The turian had soundlessly shifted to Dakel's side, leaning slightly over the kiosk, their head a mere foot or two away from the quarian's face. He gulped and focused on the gun, his heart beating faster.

"Well uh... what kind of issues have you been having with it?" He asked, trying with all his might to hide how flustered he was right now. 

Grisen hummed. "Well, it's the heat sync alarm. Keeps flashing after I take a single shot and doesn't shut up until I turn it on and off again." They had an annoyed expression on their face; their brow furrowed and eyes narrowed at the gun in question. Dakel found it oddly... cute? "My work calls for focus and discretion and I can't exactly focus or be discreet if I get a big warning flashing up on my HUD and beeping in my earpiece can I?" 

"Uh. No, not at all. These warnings can be annoying haha..." He let his eyes wander over to the leaning turian, who continued to glare at their troublesome rifle. They were still wearing the tight-fitting utility suit from their first encounter, the curves of their body mesmerising Dakel as his eyes wandered over to their shapely rear-end and long thin legs.

"It's only done this the past couple of days and I don't know what to do, think you can fix it for me?" They pushed themself away from the kiosk, Dakel quickly dragging his pervy gaze back to the turian's brilliant green eyes.

He adjusted his hood again; a nervous habit he developed from a young age. "Well... oh! Hold on." Dakel chirped, quickly heading to the back room to pick up a red canister and bringing it back to the kiosk. Opening the canister, he activated his omni-tool and took a small amount of green gel and placed it on the side of the rifle. With a few button presses, the gel began to move on it own, thin out and then disappear within the gun. He then fiddled with a screen presented to him and then with a triumphant final click, he closed it. "Omni-Gel! This stuff still works on older weapons, useless now of course with more modern stuff with the security updates, being able to slap some omni-gel on a console and bypass it was not a thing people were very happy with." Dakel placing his hands on his hips rather proudly.

Grisen gave a small giggle and picked up the rifle, pointing the rifle down at an angle and aiming down the sight; fiddling with its information display. "Heh. Didn't know the old green stuff still worked. Good job, you really know your stuff don't you?"

Dakel laughed. "Ah. Comes with the heritage I suppose, some quarians are into ships, I'm into guns. An engineer is an engineer no matter what the profession." It was then at that moment he remembered the pistol that hung from his waist. He brought it up in his three-fingered hand and offered it to Grisen. "By the way. Here... in case you wanted this back."

Grisen looked at the pistol and let their smile fade slightly back to a wry smirk. They reached over and placed their hand over it. However, instead of taking it, they gently pushed the pistol back towards Dakel's waist; stepping forward as they did so. "Nah. I think you've earned it. Consider it... payment for helping me out."

Their hand touched the gun with Dakel's fingers stuck in the middle, their face inches away from his own, his visor being the only thing that separated him from the turian and the true intimacy of the moment. Part of him desperately wished his suit wasn't there at all, so they could truly see him and what was underneath. The back of his mind no longer screaming about the nightmares but... the other dreams. The dreams where he is pinned against a wall and the turian has their way with him, his suit being torn from him and the turian's tongue gliding its way across his face and body. The two of them grinding against one another under the dim streetlights of Omega. Locked together in an embrace of desperate longing and lustful fulfilment.

Deja-vu hit the quarian like a frigate as he snapped back to reality; his face becoming warm and flush. Why? Why did Grisen have such an effect on him? Before he could excuse himself for his daydreaming, the turian had turned and began to walk out of the shop, their rifle attached to their back. Just before leaving, however, they stopped and turned to face him. A teeth-bearing smile fixed on their thin face.

"I got some work that needs get done tonight but tomorrow's my day off. Wanna hang out at Afterlife then?" Grisen suggested.

Before he could stop himself, his excitement spoke for him. "...Sure! Just message me what time and I'll be there. Pronto!" Dakel blurted out. Grisen replying with a swift wave and walking away, their hips swaying from side to side. Leaving Dakel all alone in the shop. The buzz of the overhead lights being the only thing that broke the silence. He began to cringe over his last statement and mumbled to himself. "Pronto? Try not to be too much of a dork next time you moron...".

He felt exhausted, his clashing emotions and feelings having drained him but at the same time excited him. The turian terrified him but at the same time, he just couldn't stop staring at Grisen and admiring every inch of them. Their eyes, their voice and their body. They were breathtaking and hearing them compliment him was... nice. They might just be worth going after. Going into the most notorious club in Omega though? The admiralty was still out on that one.

**

"Guards were being more anal than usual about the stuff I brought. Sorry kid." Polana continued to apologise as they walked together through the residential district towards Dakel and Kenn's apartment, a long day finally beginning to come to an end. "Didn't mean to hang you out to dry like that. I know you ain't the best when talking to customers."

His hand rested on his pistol as he skittishly glanced around, keeping an eye out for muggers and thugs. "Like I said Polana, its fine. I did alright, good even. Helped someone out with their rifle and that was it."

Polana scratched her chin and raised an eyebrow. "Yeah... Grisen. Listen, kid. Did they ask you to do anything else? Anything that stood out to you at all?"

"...no? I just fixed their rifle and they went on their way. They were nice." Dakel sheepishly replied.

Polana kept her eyebrow cocked at him and sighed. "Just a fix eh? I'm surprised. Usually, they ask me to help them out with stuff related to their work."

He began to let his guard down as they entered the long hallway to which his apartment was just a few blocks down. "You uh... you know Grisen well then?"

"Mostly. We came from the same colony; known them since they were little. Had the odd run-in with them when I taught classes at the military academy, marksmanship, they were one of the academy's top students. Small and slim, even back then. Their specialisation was in infiltration last I heard after leaving. Met them here on Omega years later; became a contact of sorts for them." Polana recalled with a slight pang of wistfulness in her voice.

Dakel gazed at the grizzled turian, she looked different, her casual and intimidating aura melting away slightly to show a soft and somewhat sad person. He coughed. "A contact huh? I'm guessing you're not a person they call when they just need weapons fixed then huh?" He gave an awkward chuckle as she stopped and he kept walking for a few seconds, eventually stopping and turning around; revealing he had walked past his apartment door. He quickly paced back and adjusted his hood. "Ah well... this is me! Thanks for the escort."

Polana's eyes were still slightly sad as she looked at him. She proceeded to fiddle about on her omni-tool. "Listen, kid. Here's your pay in advance with a small bonus on the side."

"...oh! Polana you don't need-"

She raised an armoured finger and continued to tap on her wrist, Dakel's own tool beeping back in acknowledgement. "You take this and get yourself something nice alright? I know its not a ticket off this rock but..." 

Dakel felt his heart pang a little as he struggled to keep eye contact with the turian, who brought her hand to rest on his shoulder. 

"You can always talk to me about stuff alright? You're a good kid. You don't need to let this place get to you." She softly said to him with a warm smile.

His eyes fell towards her feet as his embarrassment and shame snuck upon him. He mumbled. "Th-thanks Polana."

She patted his shoulder and walked off, turning around occasionally to make sure he got inside without issue. Not that he noticed her, he had quickly entered the apartment and closed the door behind him with a quick slam.

He felt awful. She treated him so well and he couldn't even tell her the whole truth about seeing Grisen tomorrow. To be honest, he was embarrassed at the notion of telling her about the "date" altogether. Like she was his mother and he was the awkward teenager on his first date. In fairness, he thought. She had been more of a mother to him these past few months than his real mother ever was. Dakel shook his head, sighing deeply at himself. " _Keelah_..."

Just then, a loud flush emanated from within the apartment, the pipes above Dakel rattling as Kenn emerged from the bathroom. A datapad clutched in his hand. "Oh hey there Nar Shellen. New edition of Fornax is out! Uh... which I wasn't reading in the bathroom, nope not at all."

Dakel slapped a hand on his visor and groaned.

**

He was used to oddly standing out, even back home on the Floatilla. His family's grey and white environment suits were a tradition, something about being able to see dirt and engine oil clearly on it was a 'mark of honour' as his Dad would preach. As other quarian children grew up and began to express themselves, he couldn't. His parents' overbearing control over his studies and appearance exhausting him; amongst other things. As soon as the opportunity of a pilgrimage came to him, he took it without hesitation, leaving his homeship of the Shellen swiftly behind and then eventually ending up on Omega. Here he stood out just as all quarians do across the galaxy. However, he was now a white and grey-suited one surrounded by the muted colours of armoured mercs, shifty merchants and dark smugglers, he might as well of been an albino Varren stranded in a Thresher Maw nest.

"C'mon! Let me in!" A human male yelled as Dakel nervously hung around the entrance to the club, the muffled beat of dance music echoing from within. He fiddled with his omni-tool to try and calm himself, his stomach dropping when people passed him, especially Krogans. He had a lousy sleep the night before and a mind-numbing day at work, Polana was on the kiosk all day as he languished in the backroom, the work barely keeping his mind off of his "date" with Grisen. Was this even really a date to begin with? They had just said they wanted to hang. What if he had got everything wrong and the signals mixed up? What if he looked weird just standing here waiting for the message to meet up? What if it was all a big joke and they were just toying with him? Oh, _Keelah_. He fretted internally.

A message popped up in front of him, an anonymous sender with gibberish as their user name.

_Hey, stop looking all antsy and get your cute butt over here._

The user shared their location with him, a ping on his navigation application, it was around the corner and down a back alleyway. Dakel looked around. Grisen was nowhere to be seen. Was this a scam? Was he being set up?

_...this is Grisen btw._

Another message. He shut off his omni-tool and sighed. He needed to calm down, he was here for a good time with someone, he couldn't let his stupid brain ruin this. With one final glance around him, he made his way around the corner from Afterlife and down the alleyway. Keeping a hand as always hovering over his pistol. The club's music fading away as it was replaced by the hustle and bustle of the markets and the shrill ramblings of a Batarian prophet. Dakel hated that guy. Before long, music began to fade back in as he made it to the end of a dark red-lit hallway. A single nondescript locked door waiting at the end. No turian within sight. Dakel's mind began to race again as he now rested his hand on the pistol, ready at a moment's notice to draw and counter any surprise.

"Boo."

A whisper in his left ear caused him to jump and spin around, losing his footing and begin to fall backwards. A three-fingered hand grabbed his own to stop him from tumbling, with another grabbing his waist firmly to drag him back upright. Green eyes gazing into his cloudy visor. It was Grisen and they were grinning. "Spooked ya again."

Dakel held his breath, paused and then gave a nervy laugh. "Ah... yeah, well um... you are quite good at doing that." The turian was surprisingly strong, despite Dakel almost having a full foot on them heightwise and basically falling backwards with their full weight, their grip on him felt effortless and powerful. He was a respectably in-shape and somewhat tough quarian guy but Grisen's grip on his waist and hand made him feel very delicate. Submissive almost. Their hands lingered on him slightly before letting go. His body tingled once they were absent, intrusive thoughts wanting them right back where they once were. He coughed and patted his grey hood. "Nice... hangout spot?" he mumbled.

Grisen had their familiar wry smirk adorned across their face as they approached the locked door and leaned against it, their gaze focused on Dakel. "You like it? Hottest place outside the hottest place. Only VIPs come through here." They cocked their head at Dakel and tapped on the door with a slim black-gloved finger.

The quarian apprehensively walked closer to the door and checked his omni-tool, it was locked tight, a passcode required to enter. "Erm. Do you have a password to get in?"

"Nope." Grisen nonchalantly stated as they rummaged through a utility pouch on their hip. "We won't need one though." Bringing out a small red capsule, they broke it open and let a green gel smear itself near the door's central lock panel.

Dakel watched all this with confusion. Nervously glancing around the alleyway for any cameras or people, none of which were, thankfully, present. "What, ah. What do you mean? ...wait is that omni-gel?"

"Yup, had some stuff lying around from the good old days before the big update. As you said, the stuff became useless after various security updates, only good for repairing/bypassing older stuff right?" Grisen explained, Dakel slowly beginning to realise where they were coming from. "As luck has it, this door is an older model and so is its locking mechanism. I bet a few twirls on your omni-tool should do the trick to get the gel to do its business."

Dakel stared blankly at Grisen for a moment, a cavalcade of emotions slamming together within him. "You... want me to break us in?" he blurted out, his voice betraying his nervousness.

Grisen's eyes narrowed slightly as a mischievous expression slinked across their face. "I'd try to be the only one to break us in but my tool's a newer model; so it's incompatible with the gel. Besides, we're not breaking in so much as we're just... waltzing into the VIP section of Afterlife. Nobody will be any the wiser, they'll think we're one of the lucky few who have the code."

"I mean I'm not sure..." he stopped himself as his shy gaze eventually wandered over to Grisen's eyes. They were still brilliantly vibrant, even in the gloominess of the back alley, something about them... compelled him. His panic melting away as they tilted their head at him, their gaze enticing him 

"Please?"

Tearing himself away. He looked at his omni-tool, the gel was being picked up on his connection list. Giving a sharp sigh he tapped a few buttons and then shut the tool down. The door's holographic read-out flipped to green and beeped. They were in. Dakel adjusted his hood and took a deep breath, staring at the door, his heart beginning to beat faster. He felt a hand wrap around his own; Grisen having positioned themself at his side and leaning on him.

"Knew I could count on you. C'mon, first round's on me, Daki."

**

His heart was beating like a wild Varen trying to escape his chest. Stepping into the VIP section with Grisen wrapped around his left arm, people gave them the odd glance but nothing outright suggested they suspected them; Grisen was right. Feeling the turian pressed against him as they walked in sent waves of heat throughout his body, flustering him, the suit thankfully concealing how much he was sweating. The lounge was one of the cleanest and nicest places Dakel had ever seen on Omega, it was obvious the clientele present here demanded a fancy establishment and it was certainly given to them. Well, as fancy as it could be on a place like Omega, there was still no doubt in his mind that the people here were just as dangerous, if not more so than the people outside.

"Here. A Drossix Blue for you and me. Don't worry, I made sure the barkeep triple filtered it for you."

He had sat down at a booth in the corner of the lounge, the music dampened slightly thanks to some soundproofing, which made talking much more bearable. Grisen came over with two glasses filled with a fluorescent blue liquid. Dakel took the drink and nodded. "Ah! Thanks uh, Grisen."

They sat across from him, crossing their legs and taking casual swigs from their drink. Dakel fumbled in a pocket and took out a thin metal tube with multiple filters built within it, opening a small hole underneath his helmet's voice indicator that let him thread it through and then into his mouth, finally taking a long sip of the pleasant-tasting but strong drink. He coughed a little.

"Not too strong for you I hope?"

"Ahem. Nah it's fine, it's just ah... it has been a while is all." He sipped again, the dextro-based alcohol beginning to agree with him more, the flavour getting better after every sip, a frosty yet tropical tang sliding across his tongue and filling his stomach with a gentle warmth. "It's... actually really good!"

Grisen gave a wide smile as Dakel perked up, their mandibles fluttering a little, sharp teeth visible underneath. "It's one of my favourites, I'm also partial to a Dextro Heat Sink but sometimes you just can't beat the flavour of a Drossix."

"Ah _Keelah_ , I actually can't remember the last time I had a drink like this..." Dakel let his shoulders sag as the warmth in his stomach spread throughout his body, relaxing him. 

"I call it a danger drink because it tastes so good you don't realise how strong it is. Only takes a couple to knock someone out..." Grisen mused, their eyes twinkling against the dull red ambient light of the lounge, dark grey skin contrasting against the elegant white lines of their facial markings. "Should also kill any germs trying to wriggle into that helmet of yours, especially any trying to get through that port."

Dakel had drunk half of the drink already. He placed the drink on the table in front of him, trying to pace himself. "Oh, this? Some of us call it an emergency induction port, others call it what it really is, a straw. The aperture here..." He pointed to the small opening near where his mouth was. "...this is what we actually properly refer to as an induction port, the straw thing is a nomenclature."

Grisen leant forward, resting their elbows on their crossed knee, placing their hands together under their chin. Their gaze fixed on him. "Oh really? Can this induction port take more than just straws?"

"Sure! The suit can automatically expand the opening to a maximum radius of about 8cm and pressure seals stop outside air from sneaking in and compromising interior suit pressures. It makes eating food away from a clean and safe environment so much easier!" Dakel felt his head swim slightly; he felt great.

"Interesting... can't imagine you get much of a chance to enjoy a clean environment."

"Ohh you have no idea. I'm pretty sure I've not taken off this suit ever since I got here!" He chuckled, to which Grisen replied with a small giggle. Their eyes were looking him up and down as he spoke.

"You know Daki, I know a nice and clean place where you can take that suit off." Grisen hummed.

Dakel froze. The drink's initial hit on him subsiding and apprehension returning to him. "Oh... uh really? What do you-" he paused. "...wait, Daki?"

Grisen leant back and gave a sharp laugh, their hand covering their mouth slightly. "Spirits above. I was wondering when you were gonna catch on. Do you like it? Figured someone as cute as you needed a cute nick-name."

He sighed and tugged on the front of his hood, looking down at the drink in front of him. "Cute? Me? I uh..." his face hot and flush under the visor, he could now barely keep eye contact with Grisen.

A small buzz took Grisen's attention away from the embarrassed quarian, they looked at their omni tool and their smile quickly disappeared. "I need to take a call. Mind waiting here for a sec?" they gave him a sidelong glance as they swiftly stood up. He could only nod as they then quickly made their way to the back of the lounge, disappearing around a corner and into a back room. He sat there, placing his hands on his visor and groaning slightly.

"Cute? That is most definitely just a nice way of saying you're being a massive dork Dakel..." he mumbled to himself, grabbing his drink and taking a couple of long sips.

He sat there stewing in his own thoughts for what felt like an eternity, the drink wasn't hitting him as hard as it did previously and he felt himself getting more anxious the longer Grisen was absent. It seems like they were on a very long call. His intrusive thoughts began to assault him again. What if they had just bailed on him? After what had just happened, oh yeah they most likely just realised how much of a loser you were and saved themselves the time and the effort. That was certainly it. Who did he think he was coming to a place like this with someone like that? He hit his head against the backrest of the booth and looked at the corner where Grisen had disappeared.

"...you know what? Fuck it."

He stood up and walked across the moody VIP lounge and around the corner, a door opening to a long and even more dimly lit hallway. Long holographic screens of fire flanking either side of him as he looked around. He marched down the corridor looking for any sign of his 'date'. Only passing small empty alcoves with seats in them. The end of the hallway had an impressive looking metal door marked "staff only". He felt his resolve collapse. They really had just ditched him...

Suddenly, the door opened and Grisen came dashing through, bumping into Dakel.

"Grisen?! What are yo-" he yelped. The turian pining themselves against him and as they rapidly looked between him and the door they had just erupted from.

"No time. Quick, come with me." Their voice was unusually calm and their face was fixed in an expression of sheer focus, their eyes narrowed. They grabbed Dakel by the hand and dashed down the hallway, the quarian clumsily following the vastly more nimble turian. They stopped, quickly glancing behind them and then at the alcove with a lounge chair within it. With little to no hesitation, they threw Dakel onto it, mounting him and straddling themself on his lap in a swift and forceful motion.

"Wh-wha-" Dakel could barely squeak out as he found himself pinned to the chair and with Grisen's thin face mere inches away from his own. Their supple body pressed against him.

Grisen spoke in a low whisper, an intense look in their eyes. "Don't say another word... just follow my lead." With this, they began to slowly gyrate against him, their shapely rear pressed hard against his crotch.

Dakel's heart was pounding so hard he swore it might just break open his chest and even his environment-suit. A million panicked thoughts rushing through his head which slowly began to fade away, one by one, as a heat began to spread throughout his body. He was about to try and push the turian off of him in panic but instead found himself grabbing them by their hips and just staring at them. His eyes wide and not daring to break away from the predatory gaze that was fixed upon him. He dug his fingers in hard as the swelling in his groin grew, his breaths growing more shallow and raspier as he surrendered himself to the moment, and to Grisen. They slid their hands all over his suit, caressing the thinner sections like the side of his abdomen, sending a shiver throughout his body. His mind blanked as he let the pleasure of touch flow throughout him. So much so that he barely noticed the guards rushing past the two of them as they concealed themselves in the alcove. Without thinking and almost in synergy with Grisen, he released his vice-like grip on their waist and let his own hands drag themselves across Grisen's body. His left hand reaching round to the shapely turian's rear and squeezing, whilst his right hand stroked their face. Grisen gave a quiet growl, encouraging him, the gentle hum from their voice enticing him even further. He let his fingertips gently stroke the turian's lips, which they responded with a flick of their tongue, Dakel's crotch now hurting with how hard it pressed against the suit and Grisen's ardent grinding. He let his thumb part their lips and make its way into the turian's mouth, their dark blue tongue wrapping around it and wetting it thoroughly. He then slowly withdrew it, Grisen's tongue following, extending itself fully down to their chin and hanging there.

Suddenly they stopped grinding, withdrew their tongue, leaned back and carefully glanced in both directions. "Alright. Looks like we're in the clear." Sitting upright they placed their hands on Dakel's shoulders and smiled. The quarian staring for a moment in sheer confusion, then quickly shaking his head and bringing himself back to reality. He felt drunk and was panting heavily. Grisen let their familiar smirk return to their face as they sighed almost satisfactorily. "Good boy." They purred and then gave small kiss to the bewildered quarian's visor, swiftly dismounting him and patting their tight utility suit down.

He sat there dumbstruck, trying to control his breathing and process what had just happened. He leaned forward and unsteadily stood up. His member still uncomfortably pressed within the groin of his suit. He tried to speak but all that came out was more exasperated breaths. Grisen cocked their head at him, baring their teeth in a wide smile. "As I said before... I knew I could count on you."


End file.
